


Winter Knights

by wildlingoftarth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Multiple Orgasms, My First Smut, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlingoftarth/pseuds/wildlingoftarth
Summary: Jaime follows Brienne back to her room after the banquet. The heat isn't just coming from the fire.





	Winter Knights

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's First Fanfic!
> 
> I was so disappointed with the 5-second Braime love scene in 804 that I had to write my own version of events. Let's also pretend that after this they stayed in Winterfell not giving a fuck about what was happening in King's Landing, got married and had 1,000 blonde-haired green-eyed warrior babies the end.

Brienne throws another log onto the fire, despite the temperature in her room inching toward that of the seven hells. The “game” at the banquet had devolved into talk of her virginity, a topic she did NOT want to discuss with the likes of Tyrion Lannister, Pod, and Jaime.

_Jaime._

She’d felt off-kilter since she first spotted him in the courtyard at Winterfell, and the way he behaved toward her since – volunteering to serve under her command, making her a KNIGHT, for gods’ sake, fighting side by side and back to back with two halves of the same sword – unbalanced her even more. She refused to believe he’d come north because of her, and he had never said as much, but she couldn’t ignore the heat of his gaze as it followed her everywhere she went, how he always seemed to find a way to be close to her.  

After the drinking game debacle, she’d stomped off to her room, stripped off her armor down to her breeches and tunic, and begun angrily stoking the already-warm fire. Why did every conversation have to revolve around the one topic she had no experience in? Even in her frustration, she finds her thoughts lingering on the way her and Jaime’s eyes locked over their cups as they drank, the way his dazzling smile seemed to beam even more intensely when he looked at her. 

A knock at the door startles her out of her reverie. She half expects it to be that great oaf Giantsbane, following her from the great hall, making the move he’d been bellowing about since he first laid eyes on her. She had to admit she vaguely enjoyed his open adulation, since it wasn’t something that normally happened to women like her, but his gruff and sometimes downright crude way of speaking grated on her sensibilities. She wonders whether she will be able to let him down easy, or if she should be prepared for a fight, as she swings open the door. But instead of Giantsbane, she finds herself face to face with Jaime Lannister.

Jaime leans against the doorjamb, a pitcher gripped in his good hand and two cups braced across his chest with his golden one. His face looks tired and lined, hair darkened from lack of sunlight, but his green eyes still blaze just as they had when they’d first met all those years ago. She hates how his face still makes her heart skip a beat.  

“You didn’t drink,” he says as he brushes past her into her room, not waiting for an invitation. 

“I didn't drink?” Flustered, she follows him into the room and shuts the door.

“In the game.”

 _This again?_   “I drank.”

“This is Dornish,” he says, apropos of nothing. He sets the pitcher and cups down on the table, pouring the dark liquid into the one of the vessels and offering it to her.

“This is not the game. This is only drinking,” she remarks as she takes the cup and lifts it to her lips. He was right about the Dornish wine – it is rich, complex, and warms her the way ale or mead never had. Or maybe the warmth in her belly is from something else entirely.

He watches her as she drinks, then shrugs and says, “Suit yourself.” 

Their eyes lock for a moment before he looks toward the fire. “You keep it warm enough in here,” he huffs as he strips off his jacket and lays it on the chair. 

She watches him remove his top layer of clothing, heart beginning to race at the casual intimacy of the gesture. She tries to keep her voice steady as she rambles, “It's the first thing I learnt when I came to the North. Keep your fire going. Every time you leave the room, put more wood on.” 

“That's very diligent. Very responsible.” 

“Piss off,” she retorts, but as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she regrets them. For as much as he irritates her, she does not want him to leave. 

“You know the first thing I learned in the North?” he says as he comes to stand face-to-face with her. “I hate the fucking North.”

“It grows on you.” Her cheeks flush as she feels his eyes moving off her face and down her neck to her exposed collarbone, suddenly wishing she’d kept her tunic laced tighter. 

“I don't want things growing on me.” He pushes past her and pours himself a cup of wine. “How about Tormund Giantsbane?” he says gruffly. “Has he grown on you? He was very sad when you left.”

Brienne is incredulous. Did Jaime actually feel threatened by _Tormund Giantsbane_ , that ridiculous man at whom she had never even looked twice? “You sound quite jealous,” she says softly, hoping her voice does not betray the nervous tremble she feels in her body. 

Jaime knits his brows together and meets her eyes. “I do, don't I?” A tingle rushes through her nerve endings at this affirmation. He turns his gaze again toward the fire. “It's bloody hot in here.”

Brienne watches him for a few moments as he tries and fails to untie the knot at the top of his tunic with his one good hand. She puzzles over his actions before she realizes he is trying to undress. Alone, with her, in HER room.

She tries to act natural despite the feverish sensation growing in her, pushing his hands away and grumbling, “Oh, move aside.” She begins to unlace his tunic, ignoring the spark she feels when her fingers brush against his hot neck. His eyes bore into her, but she doesn’t look up, pretending to be all-consumed by working the knots out of his laces. As she works, he lifts his hand up to the collar of her shirt. 

Brienne freezes and looks up at him. “What are you doing?”

“I'm taking your shirt off.”

She can hear the blood pounding in her ears. Her heart races and hands tremble. The flutter in her belly moves lower. Did Jaime really want… _her_? To undress her, to kiss her, to…make love to her?

Brienne thinks back to all they’ve been through together. First enemies, then begrudging allies, then friends, and now…something more. She is undoubtedly attracted to him, but more than that, she loves him. She cannot deny it. She fought the army of the dead and lived to tell the tale, and now here she is, alone in her room with the man she loves. Her decision is an easy one.

She puts her hand over Jaime’s and moves it away from her neck. Disappointment flashes in his eyes until she begins unlacing her own shirt. A look of surprise comes over his face, quickly replaced by what she can only imagine is desire. His mouth falls slightly open and his breath quickens as he watches her pull the laces free. Brienne is suddenly aware of every sensation in her body: the thrum of her pulse, the blazing heat of her cheeks, the tingle in her lower belly. When she arrives at the bottom of her tunic, she leaves it hanging open, just a sliver of skin exposed. 

Brienne reaches for the hem of his tunic, pulling it up and over his head. She drops the shirt on the floor and gazes at his bare torso, bruised and scarred, but extremely well-muscled and covered with a fine sheen of sweat from the sweltering room. Her eyes sweep back up to lock on to his before bringing her hands to the neck of her shirt, pulling it slowly from her shoulders and letting it pool at her feet. Her skin is so sensitive that the feel of the fabric sliding against her breasts, arms and back makes her shudder. 

Their bodies are so close that she can feel the heat emanating off him, a spark of electricity connecting them. Despite her being half-naked, he never looks away from her eyes. 

“I've never slept with a knight before.” 

Brienne thinks it is meant to be a joke, but his voice belies something more profound. 

“I've never slept with anyone before.” She knows he is aware of this fact, but stating it at this moment, plainly and without shame, makes her feel curiously powerful.

“Then you have to drink. Those are the rules.” 

“I told you—” 

Before she can finish her protestation, Jaime’s mouth is on hers. A feverish jolt of heat courses through her body. She notes the contrast of his smooth lips and the scratch of his beard against her chin. His kisses are hungry, desperate, one hand clutching the side of her face. It takes her a moment to get over her shock before she is able to respond to him, but when she does, she matches his intensity, running her hands up his prickly chest and tangling them in his hair. They stumble over each other’s feet as they move sideways toward the bed. 

“Wait–“ Jaime breathes, and pulls away from her. Brienne reddens and looks down at the floor, worried that she’s (already) done something wrong. He tilts her chin up and looks her in the eyes. “I’ve been dreaming of this since Riverrun. I want...I _need_ this to last.” 

He kisses her again, slower, yet more intensely. She gasps as his tongue slides against the line of her mouth, and he uses this opportunity to thrust his tongue in fully. He explores every corner of her mouth while his good hand moves from her face down to her neck, across her taut shoulders and down the back of her arm, trailing sparks wherever he touches. Their bare chests press against each other, warm and solid. Brienne begins to mimic his movements, swirling her tongue around his, and this time the gasp does not come from her. She runs her hands across Jaime’s shoulders and down his broad back, rippling with tension and burning to the touch.

Jaime takes her bottom lip in his teeth and bites down gently, sending a flare through her body. She claws into his back to press him closer to her. Brienne lifts her head so he can move his mouth along her jawline, trailing soft nibbles and licks toward her ear. She burns like there are flames running through her veins. His tongue reaches out to flick her earlobe, then he takes it into his mouth and scrapes his teeth along it. She hears Jaime snicker at her quick intake of breath. How a lowly ear could make her feel such feelings, she does not know, but she does know she doesn’t want him to stop. Between her legs begins to throb, growing damp and hot.

Suddenly, she flinches at the sensation of metal against her side. Brienne remembers that Jaime has not removed his golden hand. She reaches down and lifts the heavy prosthetic with one hand, unfastening the straps that hold it to his arm with the other. He tries to pull away from her at first, but she fixes him with a look that persuades him to concede. She removes the hand and sets it with a soft clunk on the table, then runs her thumbs over the painful-looking red indentations from the straps. “You don’t have to wear this with me, you know. I don’t think you less of a man because of a missing hand. On the contrary. I’ll never forget what you did for me.” She brings the smooth flesh of his wrist up to her lips, then plants a soft kiss where his hand had been. Jaime’s eyes close, and when they open, she swears she sees them glistening with moisture.

He steps toward her and barely brushes his fingers along her lower belly, sending a jolt through her limbs. He crooks his arm around her back and presses his mouth against hers, while his fingers move to the waist of her breeches. He is much defter with the laces this time, making Brienne think his earlier bumbling with his tunic had been a ruse. While their tongues slide softly against each other, her fingers running through the hair on his chest, he loosens her breeches and tugs them down. They fall to her ankles, and she realizes she is now totally naked. He trails his hand from her hip around to her firm backside, giving it a gentle squeeze. Everywhere he touches threatens to ignite. The sensation of her naked skin pressed against the length of his body is sublime, each point of contact blooming with desire. She feels the evidence of his longing, hard and thick against her thigh.

Feeling emboldened, partly from the wine but mostly from the hungry way Jaime looked at her as she removed her shirt, Brienne steps back, allowing him to take all of her in. She has stood naked in front of him before, of course, but that had been an act of defiance. This was pure vulnerability, pure surrender to the desire she had repressed for so long. The extra training to prepare for battle has smoothed her stomach and carved out the lines of her hips and thighs, making her feel surprisingly feminine. She watches Jaime as his eyes sweep from her long neck, across her collarbone, lingering for a moment on the still-healing scars from the bear pit, down to the modest curve of her breasts. Her pink nipples harden under his gaze, and imagining what it would feel like to have his hands and his mouth on them makes her blood burn red hot.

Brienne resists the urge to bring her arms up to cover herself as Jaime’s gaze sweeps downward. She keeps her chin up and shoulders back, as befitting a knight. Despite her proud posture, she can’t stop her cheeks from blazing as his eyes come to rest on the curls of dark blonde hair at the juncture of her thighs. He licks his lips, and the pulsating between her legs becomes so intense that her knees go weak. His eyes move lower down her long, muscular legs and back up.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he rasps, eyelids heavy. His voice has a carnal quality that suggests he is going to eat her alive, not that she would mind. 

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to sweet talk me to get me into bed, Jaime.” 

“It’s not sweet talk. It’s the truth. You are perfection.” 

They close the distance between their bodies once more, even these few seconds apart too much to bear.

This time, it is Brienne’s hands that find the laces at his waist, knuckles grazing against the trail of hair under his belly button. She loosens his breeches and pushes them down, pressing her palms flat against his muscular backside as she does so. Jaime steps out of his breeches and clutches her buttock to flatten her body against his. She could feel the hot length of his cock on her bare skin.

Jaime moves his hand from her backside around to her ribs and finally up to gently cup the bottom of her breast. His touch sends a surge through her body, making her gasp and arch her back. He smiles into her neck. “If this is how you respond with barely a touch,” he whispers as his nose nuzzles her earlobe, “Wait until I get my tongue on you.” Her head swims in anticipation. He softly pinches her hard nipple and rolls it between his fingertips while he nibbles on her ear, jawline and neck. She can’t help but moan his name as he moves his mouth downward and flicks his tongue out onto her nipple. He takes it into his mouth and sucks, swirling his tongue around it and biting softly while his hand massages her other breast. The sensation makes Brienne burn with desire, the hot wetness between her legs intensifying. 

She gently grips his hair and pulls his head back up to initiate a deep kiss, reaching down with her other hand to graze the head of his cock. He sucks in his breath and whispers, “Oh, Brienne…” Hearing her name on his lips like this makes her feel brazen. She moves her hand down to the base and squeezes, wondering at how something could feel so hard and so soft at once. He twitches and hardens even more, and he grasps her buttock so hard she is sure to have bruises tomorrow. She is disappointed when he removes her hand and throws both her arms around his neck, until she feels her feet leave the ground. She is surprised at his strength, given that they are about the same size, but he lifts her easily and sets her on the edge of the bed.

He kneels in front of her and kisses her, gently pushing on her chest so that she falls backward onto her elbows. He whispers, "I want to know what you taste like. Is that okay?" All Brienne can do is nod her head; there is not enough blood in her brain to form words right now. 

He trails kisses in between her breasts, down her flat stomach, and beneath her belly button. She throbs with need, silently begging him to move further down. Jaime looks up to meet her eyes with a devilish grin, then changes his focus to the inside of her knee. She groans and falls back on the bed, looking up to glare at his obvious amusement. He places her muscular leg over his shoulder and begins to kiss up her thigh, letting his tongue flick in and out of his mouth. By the time he gets to the place where her leg and groin met, Brienne is desperate for his touch.

Finally, mercifully, Jaime’s mouth grazes across her slick folds, lightly brushing the hairs with his beard and breathing warm air onto the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden there. She throbs so intensely she thinks it may actually kill her. When he finally flattens his tongue against her and moves it up and down with soft, slow licks, the guttural cry that had been building inside her breaks free. He lifts her other leg over his shoulder and ravishes her, licking, sucking, teasing, biting. His fingers find her nipple and gently pinch it, which intensifies the exquisite pleasure he provides with his mouth. She can think of nothing except the sensation between her legs, nothing except the need to have him even closer. She bucks her hips up but he holds her down, preventing her from moving against him and putting her fully at his mercy. The feeling is both excruciating and extraordinary. She did not know herself capable of such pleasure. 

Jaime’s adept tongue greedily licks and sucks and laps up the moisture leaking from her while his rough hand moves from her breast to her buttock to her thigh and back again. Her knuckles turn white as she clutches the sheets, her body spasming more with every second of his torment. She feels a pressure building in her, pulse racing, muscles jerking, body trembling from her toes to the tips of her fingers. “Jaime!” she yells as she pushes her hands into his hair, willing him to keep going. Suddenly, she feels as if she is exploding and melting all at once. Waves of vibration emanate from between her thighs and crash over her entire body. Her hips buck, back arches, and thigh muscles clench around Jaime’s head as she lets out a cry of pleasure from deep within. Time stops and her mind empties of all thought, save the sensations coursing through her body. She sees stars behind her squeezed-shut eyelids. It seems to last forever, yet is over far too soon.

Brienne comes crashing back down, whole body going slack as the waves of passion recede. Her eyes flutter open, and she sees Jaime gazing at her, head still between her legs. They look at each other a moment before she is able to utter, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Jaime smiles with heavy lids as he swings her legs over the bed so that she is lying down fully, then settles the full weight of his body on top of her. His warm skin feels so good pressed against hers. “No, but even if you had, there are much worse ways to die than crushed between those magnificent legs.” She looks away and laughs, trailing her fingertips up and down his side.

Their mouths meet in a soft kiss, Brienne tasting herself on his lips. She deepens it, sliding her tongue into his mouth, and he responds by circling his tongue around hers. She thinks about his mouth between her legs just moments ago and begins to throb again, even more urgently. She grinds herself against his leg, trying to find find friction to relieve her arousal. He shifts her off of him so that they are laying side by side, facing each other. Brienne reaches her hand down to his engorged cock, gripping the hard length, and he gasps against her mouth. Jaime’s fingers find her folds, plump with stimulation and slick with her juices, and she lifts one of her legs to give him full access. He moves up and down, circling her entrance, rubbing her tender nub. She quivers under his touch. Her breath quickens as he inserts one finger slowly, carefully, inside of her. 

She clenches around Jaime’s finger while he watches her face for signs of pain, but sees only ecstasy. Brienne’s hand moves on top of his, willing him deeper inside her as her hips rock to the rhythm of his finger sliding in and out. He adds another digit to further her pleasure, feeling her tremble and spasm as his thumb circles her clit. “Wait,” she gasps, coming to the edge of another explosion but not allowing herself to go off the edge. She pulls his fingers out of her, lamenting their absence already. “I need you…inside me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” she says without hesitation, never having been surer of anything.

Brienne begins to roll on to her back, but he stops her. “It might be better for you if you were on top. I don’t want to hurt you.” He shifts onto his back and pulls her on top of him, legs straddling his hips, wetness dripping onto his thighs.

She watches his face contort and breath grow ragged with desire as the tip of his cock grazes her slippery folds. Their eyes lock as she reaches down to guide him into her. She is dripping wet, making it easy to lower herself down onto him. She takes him in ever so slowly, expecting the searing pain she’d heard other ladies speak of, but feels only a dull pang that is quickly replaced by a magnificent sensation of fullness. “Gods, Brienne,” he breathes, face pained as he struggles to remain still while she takes him in at her pace. She sits up straighter, reveling in the feeling of his full length inside her, with her hands on his chest and her head thrown back. He rubs her thigh, watching her face as her eyes open and she leans forward to slide herself up his cock, then back down. His fingers dig into her hip and he growls a primal sound. 

Brienne hadn’t imagined it would feel this good, or that seeing his face as she moves up and down on top of him would heighten her own desire so much. She squeezes herself around him and starts to move faster, finding a rhythm that causes the pressure to build in her once again. He sits up straight and wraps her legs around his waist, their hips moving in unison, foreheads pressed together, green and blue eyes locked. Jaime hooks his arm around her back and pulls her closer, then moves his hand to her breast, squeezing it while he sucks and bites at her neck. Her heart races and she gasps shakily, crying out as she comes to the precipice of another orgasm.

“Tell me how it feels,” he moans as he thrusts his hips up, driving himself deeper inside her, hitting the spot that his fingers had teased moments before.

“It feels so good, Jaime.” She can barely get the words out while the pleasure builds in her again, her whole body burning, aching for release. “Please, don’t stop.” Her strong legs clench around his waist, squeezing him to her, burying his cock in her innermost depths. She clamps down around him, hands digging into his back as she feels the tingle building along her spine. As she grinds down onto him, he thrusts his hips up, breaking the dam that had been holding back the tension inside her. Brienne cries out, not caring who might hear her in the quiet of the castle, wanting Jaime to know exactly how he makes her feel. Her head flies back, eyes squeeze shut, face contorts as the waves of euphoria crash through her body. She trembles and breathes out raggedly, the feeling of him still sliding in and out of her threatening to shatter her into a million pieces. The earthquake inside her subsides and, feeling weightless and empty, she slumps against him and leans her head on his shoulder. 

Jaime gives her a moment to recover before flipping her onto her back and driving into her again. She is still so sensitive that his thrusts are almost painful, but in the best way; the fire begins to spark in her once more as she wraps her legs around him and urges him deeper. She brings her hips up and claws at his back as he drills into her relentlessly. His thrusts become quicker and more desperate. “BRIENNE!” he shouts as he releases into her, convulsing, panting, then slackening. He buries his face in her neck and breathes out heavily. His body drops onto hers and she relishes the feeling of his weight pressed on top of her. She elicits a shudder from him as she drags her fingernails down his back. 

He lifts his head to look at her, eyelids heavy, a drowsy smile on his face, cock softening inside her. She pushes his hair out of his eyes and smiles back. He kisses her gently, sighing against her lips. They lie there for a long while, delighting in the feeling of their still-joined bodies.

“Was sleeping with a knight everything you thought it would be?” she asks playfully, once the haze of pleasure clears her mind.

“So much more,” he answers, trailing his fingers along her jawline and gasping softly as he slides out of her and settles himself beside her on the bed. “But I need to know…was it what you expected? What you’ve been dreaming of since you were a little girl?” He smiles that devilish smile again.

“I stopped dreaming about it a long time ago, after the second of three failed betrothals. I gave up on the thought that any man would ever want me…like this. I still can’t believe it actually happened, much less with a man like you. The handsomest man in Westeros,” she says mischievously, playing to his well-known vanity. He actually blushes, making her giggle softly. “To answer your question…it was…” She tries to form words to describe what she’d just felt, but comes up empty.

“Have I rendered you speechless, Ser Brienne?” He smiles and places a soft kiss on her shoulder.

“Let’s just say…now I understand what all the fuss is about.” Her fingers are still combing through his hair, and he relaxes even more, cheek pressed to her chest, arm slung across her belly. She thinks he’s fallen asleep when suddenly, his head snaps up and he looks her directly in her bright blue eyes.

“Do you remember what I told you when I gave you Oathkeeper?”

Of course she does. She has replayed the scene over and over in her mind since then. One of the greatest honors of her life, until the same man made her a knight. She smiles softly and repeats his words. “’It’s yours. It’s always been yours.’”

He takes her hand and presses it to his chest so that she can feel his heart thumping steadily under his skin. It speeds up just before he speaks again. “I wasn’t talking about the sword.”

Her breath catches in her throat.

“What are you saying?” she manages to stammer out in disbelief. _He couldn’t possibly mean..._  

“I’m saying I love you, Brienne.”

The world around her fades to black, narrowing to a pinpoint on Jaime’s face. Fire blooms in her cheeks, her eyes go wide, and her mouth falls open.

He continues, “I HAVE loved you. Ever since I met you, I have felt myself coming closer and closer to the man I want to be, the man no one else thought I could be…except you. Every noble thing I have done since then, I did because of you.”

Her heart pounds and hands tremble. Her only experiences with love thus far have been unrequited, tragic, heartbreaking. She knows she loves Jaime, has known for a long time, but has never allowed herself to truly accept and surrender to her feelings. How could someone like him love someone like her, someone so ungainly, so plain, so unladylike?

But looking into his face at this moment, his eyes so green and so sincere, she knows he means it.

Despite all the denials she’d run through her head the past several years, the words come out easily, taking with them a weight that had been pressing on her heart. “I love you too, Jaime. You ARE a good man, a noble man. It was always in you – and I can only take partial credit for bringing it out. You did the rest.” The look of relief and elation that floods over his face is almost too much for her to bear. She grabs his face and kisses him deeply, showing him with her body what words fail to capture.

After a few moments, he pulls away and asks, “Can I stay with you?”

“Tonight? Of course.” She’d never shared a bed with anyone like this, but the thought of him vacating her bed now leaves her feeling empty and cold. Before Jaime came to her on this night, she may have worried over what others would think about her sharing her chambers with the Kingslayer. But after the way they’d just cried out each other’s names over and over again, she is sure everyone already knows, and she is surprised to find that she doesn’t care. 

“No, I mean…can I stay here, at Winterfell, with you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Jaime wanted to stay here. With her. She didn’t know what she had expected him to do after the battle, but staying in Winterfell, where his presence was barely tolerated, was not it. “What will you do?” She has her charge as Sansa’s sworn sword, as well as the responsibility of training the soldiers and smallfolk who want to learn to fight, but his duties as a soldier ended with the battle. 

“I’ll do whatever I have to do. I’ll sweep out the stables and empty the chamber pots if it means I get to be near you every day.” He lowers his voice and rasps into her ear, “…and make you scream my name every night.” The promise of more pleasure like what she just experienced makes her cheeks blaze and heat rush to her most sensitive areas once again. She manages to rasp out, "I'll talk to Sansa tomorrow," before wrapping her legs high around his back and giving him a look she usually reserves for the sparring grounds, a look that says, _come and get me_. She uses her strong thigh muscles to clamp down around him and press her body against his rapidly hardening member. 

He raises an eyebrow in surprise and utters, “You learn quickly, Ser.” 

“Shut up and take me again, Lannister,” she commands with a tempestuous look in her eye. Like a good soldier, he obeys, a low growl emanating from his smirking mouth. He drives into her still-slick entrance with one powerful thrust, eliciting a startled yelp. His eyes are wild, burning with desire as he pushes into her again and again. Jaime throws her legs over his shoulders, one on either side of his head, this new angle reaching depths she did not know she possessed. Her eyes go wide, breath becomes ragged, as his cock pummels her most sensitive spot over and over. Brienne clutches the sheets in her fists and bucks her hips up into him, throbbing heat emanating through every inch of her body. She approaches the brink once again, and he turns his face to her calf and sinks his teeth in gently, the twinge of pain flinging her off the edge into oblivion. She clenches and flutters around him, crying out his name and submitting completely to the tremors wracking through her body.

She feels him coming along with her, sees his face crumple and hears a low moan coming from deep within him as he spills his seed. He thrusts fervently one last time while she yields to the aftershocks surging through her, then collapses on top of her, burying his face in her neck and breathing out heavily. Her body feels liquid, unable to do anything besides sigh into his shoulder.

He rolls off and pulls her into his arms, pressing the full lengths of their bodies together. His right arm wraps around her waist, left hand moves up to cup her cheek. They look into each other’s eyes for a long time, saying nothing, luxuriating in the feel of skin on skin.

Tomorrow, she would deal with asking Sansa to allow Jaime to stay, deal with the inevitable whispers and disapproving looks from the other residents of the castle. But tonight, the only thing she wants to think about is the feeling of his arms around her.

Their eyelids soon grow heavy, the emotional and physical exhaustion of the past few days crashing down upon them. He nuzzles into her neck and mutters something imperceptibly. “Hmm?” she questions as she runs her fingers through the back of his hair.

“Nothing else matters,” he repeats a little louder, as if reading her mind, before they both fall into a dreamless sleep tangled in each other’s arms. “Nothing else matters. Only us.”


End file.
